The Demon Vampire of Fleet Street
by xXvampiresRluvXx
Summary: Sweeney Todd is under the misconception that he is Death itself. Little does he know that London is home to a coven of pure evil and that they will soon seduce him into a bloodlust he has never known...
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, this is my first uploaded fanfic, I hope it does well and you enjoy it! I'm kinda nervous about uploaded it but my friend managed to talk me into doing this. Reviews are much appreciated though flames are not. **

**And no, I don't own any of the characters, lyrics, or anything else Sweeney Todd. If I did do you think I'd be writing fanfictions?**

**Summary: Sweeney Todd is under the misconception that he is Death itself. Little does he know that London is home to a coven of pure evil and that they will soon seduce him into a bloodlust he has never known before...**

**Prologue**

Rain brutally hammered windows and pounded on the streets, lightning forked acrfoss the sky followed by the loud boom of thunder, and yet men were still traversing the cold London streets. The rain did not irk these men whose business was far more important that the discomfort of sopping wet clothes that clung to the body or numb appendages. A storm was brewing though, and the brave Londoners that prevailed were rushing along their way, holding their hats to their heads and tightly clutching their briefcase.

The sky was illuminated by a brief flash of lightning and the roar of thunder that shadowed it shook the windows in Mr. Sweeney Todd's barbershop. The man himself stood before a window, his nose inches away from the shaking glass. His stood stiffly with his arms folded behind his back, one hand fondling a chaste silver razor, the other clenched into a tight fist. The barber's forehead was creased and one corner of his lip was turned down in a dismal frown. The only signs that he was alive and conscious were the slow rise and fall of his chest and the erratic movement of his eyes.

He watched those below him with black eyes full of hatred and disgust. Those men, those putrid little men…

_We all deserve to die…_

"Vermin," Todd spat, spit catching on the window.

_There's a whole in the world like a great black pit and it's filled with people who are filled with shit and the vermin of the world inhabit it!_

Those rhymes were lyrics of the Demon Barber's song. Sweeney Todd lived by his epiphany, his realization that all men were nothing more than shit and that they were damned to kiss the silver blade of his razor.

_They all deserve to die!_

"And I will see to it that they do," Todd vowed in a low voice.

Wind whistled through a crack in the window, the sound ringing in Todd's ears like a woman's screams of pain. The scream evoked bad memories, memories of Lucy; visions of what that damned Turpin did to her. It also brought other memories, those from a different age, life…

He remembered standing before the fire in the parlor, the warmth not heating his body then slicked with a cold sweat. Lucy was screaming in the bedroom and he had felt worthless, away from his wife with his clammy hands stuffed in his pockets. The screaming stopped and his stomach lurched. Was she dead?

But the wailing of a baby pierced the silence and he nearly swooned from relief. Lucy was lying in the bed, her yellow hair sticking to her wet forehead and in her arms was the baby, Johanna.

Todd roared and his fist slammed into the window. Pain shot up his arm though he did not wince. Pain was what he wanted. He needed the feeling of hot blood pouring over his fingers to bring him back into the world.

The window was now cracked and bloodied. Todd inspected his injured fist and found with satisfaction that glass was embedded in his fingers and blood was running down the back of his hand.

The barber resumed his position standing before the window with his arms behind his back, the fingers of his right hand caressing hand the silver razor, his left ruining the back of his shirt with red stains of blood. He stared into the windows of the building across the street. One window was full of a bright light and inside was two men, one shouting at the other and raising his arms.

_...there_ _are two kinds of men and only two. There's the one staying put in his proper place and the one with his foot in the other one's face._

"Vermin, all of them," Todd mumbled. "I will kill them all."

Todd bean to pace around his tiny room, mind buzzing with plots of murder. That damned Judge Turpin, sitting in his well protected mansion so hard to get. And that sailor boy Anthony, Sweeney could have killed him the moment he barged into the shop but the boy would be useful in the future _if _he could keep out of reach of the cold hands of death.

The cold hands of Death…

Those were Sweeney's hands, Sweeney Todd was Death itself and the razor in his hand was his scythe.

The tiny bell above the door sang of an intruder and Todd's teeth clenched when Nelly Lovett's incessant chattering began. The barber slowly turned and took in the sight of the dripping wet baker, a tray in her hands and mouth rapidly opening and closing.

"'Ow you can stay in this freezin' room I'll never know," Lovett shivered after setting down the tray.

"How the hell you manage to always think of something to speak of I'll never know nor want to," Todd grumbled.

This managed to deflate the baker's positive aura and she trudged back to the door defeated. Todd was pleasantly surprised for once, most times the woman would chatter for minutes before she finally gave up and retired to her own shop.

Todd returned to the window now slightly calmer. He might eat later though he rarely finished anything Lovett brought to him.

The door opened once more and Todd was ready to rage until a thick cockney accent said, "'Ello mate, just popped in for a bit of a shave if you're still open."

The barber's mood changed instantly and he spun around with a sinister smile. "Why of course this shop is open, sir, as long as one requires my services."

"Customer service," the man grinned. "I like this place."

"If you would take a seat, sir," Todd gestured towards the chair. The man sat down in the red velvet chair and Sweeney could hardly contain his excitement. It was a feeling that rivaled that of a predator stalking its prey. Unlike the majestic lion who killed for survival, Todd killed not only for his own survival but for enjoyment and that rush of adrenaline that overtook him every time an unsuspecting victim sits in the chair before him.

Todd flicked open his razor, the little click that it made as the blade set into place making his eyes glitter all the more like the killer he truly is. He tilted the blade this way and that, admiring the lightning flash on the silver for a moment before his gaze returned to his victim. The man was looking rather apprehensive, chewing his lower lip slightly.

"Biting your lip's a very bad habit, sir," Todd said, advancing towards the man.

"Y-yes, but I can't stop," the man stuttered.

"I can stop it for you," Todd barely whispered. He raised his arm and swung, the blade slicing through the air and ripping through the flesh on the man's neck. Blood gushed from the neat gash in the man's neck, coating the front of his shirt and the barber. The look of horror on the man's face as he died, eyes filled with terror bulging from their sockets, nostrils flared and mouth gaping. He tried to scream but only gargled, blood and spit frothing at his mouth and spilling over his chin.

The spray of blood had died down, slowing to only trickle over the man's chest. Todd lifted the corpse's chin with the tip of his razor to admire his handiwork. The slit was a neat line, quite deep, and as he lifted the chin higher the skin at the end of the cut tore, making the horrible sound of ripping flesh that made one grit his teeth.

But to Todd, the sound, the stench, the sight was all something that occurred on a regular basis—if he was lucky. Blood had become something beautiful to him, the crimson life that gushed out of the neck like a flood.

Todd pressed down on the pedal at his feet and watched as the chair slid back and waited until he heard the sickening crunch as the skull of the corpse smashed. Once the chair slid back into place Todd sat down. He took the slightly bloodied rag from his belt and wiped his razor clean with gentle hands. The razor shone in the flashing lightning and Todd stared at his reflection, at the gaunt face covered with fresh blood that he had spilt with his own hands.

"I am Death," the demon barber said in a dark tone. "I am Death and all will fear me."

What Sweeney Todd didn't know was that he would soon come to know death whether he wanted to or not.


	2. Chapter 2

Nelly Lovett sighed as the door banged shut behind her

Nelly Lovett sighed as the door banged shut behind her. She began wringing her dress and softly biting her lip. What was she going to do with that man? He was always so moody! Every day she tried her best to be bright and cheerful around him but every day it became harder. She had simply given up today, what with the rain and all. Mrs. Lovett felt like she could join Mr. Todd in his moping today.

Letting the wet dress fall from her fingers, Mrs. Lovett walked to her counter and began beating dough. Times like these she was happy to have spare dough to take her anger out on.

Every day was just the same. Wake up early, start making pies, make breakfast for Toby, Mr. Todd, and sometimes herself if she wasn't that busy. Usually if there was a body in the basement she would skip breakfast and collect the meat from the basement which took quite a long time. By the time all of this was done she would either begin cleaning or do some shopping. At noon the shop would open and would stay open until ten or sometimes later depending on how many customers remained. All throughout that time Mrs. Lovett would be making many trips to the basement and also feeding Toby and Mr. Todd their suppers.

"D'you really think customers are gonna be comin' tonight, ma'am?"

Mrs. Lovett jumped and Toby frantically apologized.

"Don't be sorry, love." Mrs. Lovett shook her head and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. Kneading that dough was making her work up a sweat. "You just spooked me is all. What're you doin' anyways?"

"Jus' came to see if you needed anythin', ma'am," Toby said.

"Nah, I'm just gettin' ready for the mornin', you run along to bed, all right?" Mrs. Lovett smiled. Toby returned the expression, said another thank you, and went to the parlor. Seeing as the house had only one room in which Mrs. Lovett resided and Mr. Todd occupied the room upstairs, Toby's bed was the sofa in the parlor. At times Mrs. Lovett regretted only having that small space for the boy although when she thought about where he could be…

Mrs. Lovett was surprised when the door to the shop opened and a bearded man entered the store. He was nearly soaked through and after she took his coat, Mrs. Lovett ushered him to a table and rushed to get him a tankard of ale. The man was polite enough to make pleasant conversation—he had a thick cockney accent—and he complemented Mrs. Lovett on the meat pies many times.

"'Ard to believe someone could scrounge up a meal like this," the man said. "You know how things are sellin' these days."

"Yes, sir, I do know," Mrs. Lovett nodded. "I feel very lucky indeed to have such a business."

"Well, miss, I'll take me leave now." The man picked up his hat and coat and before leaving asked, "'Scuse me, miss, but is the barbershop upstairs still open?"

"Yes sir," Mrs. Lovett said, barely able to retain a smile. "I'm sure Mr. Todd will be happy to serve you."

The man thanked Mrs. Lovett once more and left the warm cheery pie shop to enter the cold dreary barbershop where he would meet his untimely death. Mrs. Lovett flopped into the recently occupied booth and held her head in her hands. Why hadn't she just told him that the barbershop was closed?

"Oh bugger it," Mrs. Lovett said to herself. "Why bother with all this nonsense! He's just another…"

Customer? Victim? _Pie_?

Mrs. Lovett stood and went to her counter. She began to knead the dough once more although less brutally than before. After she was satisfied with the dough, she began making the paste for the pies and busying herself with other tasks. Basically trying to prolong the time until she had to chop up the corpse of that friendly man she had sent to his death.

Minutes passed and Mrs. Lovett's limbs began to grow heavy with fatigue and her eyelids began to droop. She couldn't put off chopping up the dead man until the morning; she needed to start the work quickly so the basement wouldn't fill with that god awful stench of decomposing flesh. That mistake had been made once before and she was not going to work someplace that smelled like an old crypt, the blood was bad enough.

Mrs. Lovett filled a glass with gin and drained it in one gulp, some of the liquid slipping from her lips and down her neck. She filled the glass again and took only a small sip. Lord knew she deserved a good drink; she had to deal with impatient customers, a crabby Mr. Todd, and all those dead bodies.

The door opened while Mrs. Lovett was in the middle of a gulp of gin and she coughed and sputtered a hello. Her ears turned beet red when she realized that it was a customer that had entered and not Mr. Todd as she had expected.

The customer was a woman and was marvelously dressed and possessed a beauty that Mrs. Lovett had never before seen. The woman was tall and thin, her marble, milky white skin was illuminated by the flickering candlelight as was her wavy waist-length fire red hair. She had pursed lips and magnificent liquid green eyes that could only hint at the knowledge she owned. Her dress was as red as her hair and was tight enough to hint at her appealing curves though the low bust line all but revealed her breasts. A silver chain was hung around her neck upon which was an extraordinary pendant. On her wrists she bore expensive bracelets and her long pianists' fingers were decorated with various rings, all of them silver.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" Mrs. Lovett asked, smoothing the front of her dress.

"I am not sure that you can but perhaps you may try," said the woman. Her voice was soft and had the sweetness of a young girl but Mrs. Lovett only believed that her polite demeanor was only the cover of a sinister being. "You may call me Elizabeth."

"I'm Nelly, now why don' you take a seat, dear, and tell me what's the trouble."

"I need no rest though I thank you for your hospitality," Elizabeth said kindly, advancing towards Mrs. Lovett's counter. Her nose wrinkled in disgust and her eyes wandered towards the door to the bake house. "Is that where you store the meat, Nelly?"

Mrs. Lovett's brows furrowed at the odd question. "Yes it is, now why'd you come here?"

Elizabeth was not ruffled by Mrs. Lovett's brisk tone. She smiled a beautiful smile that did not reveal her teeth. "Perhaps you could serve me one of your world renowned meat pies?"

"I'd be happy to, just take a seat, dear," Mrs. Lovett turned her back to pick up a plate and spun round once more to ask Elizabeth if she would like some ale and was shocked to see that the woman was already seated at the booth. Nearly dropping the plate, Mrs. Lovett quickly gained composure and asked the question. Elizabeth gently rejected and Mrs. Lovett bustled to get a pie.

She set the plate before Elizabeth and took the seat opposite her. Elizabeth stared apprehensively at the pie and Mrs. Lovett chuckled,

"It's not gonna bite you, dear."

Elizabeth smiled softly and took a small bite of the pie. She chewed softly with what seemed like a triumphant grin.

"Delicious," she said simply. "I would like to know if the barber will open his shop tomorrow morning."

"Yes he will, every day 'cept Sunday he's open," Mrs. Lovett replied. "Now wasn't there somethin' serious you wanted to ask me bout?"

"No, not at all," Elizabeth shook her head. "I suppose I shall bring this home with me since my appetite has diminished some."

Mrs. Lovett gave Elizabeth a napkin to wrap the meat pie in and asked, "Is there somethin' I can get you to drink?"

"I do not think you would have the—liquid that I desire," Elizabeth said.

"Sure? I've got ale and gin," Mrs. Lovett offered.

Elizabeth burst into laughter, laughter like that of a blessed cherub and a laughter that also revealed abnormally sharp teeth. Mrs. Lovett was slightly unnerved by such monstrous canines and shrunk back slightly. Calming from her outburst, Elizabeth thanked Mrs. Lovett, left a tip on the table, gathered her pie, and left the shop, making no sound at all the silk of her dress not even making the slightest rustle.

Mrs. Lovett gathered the coins on the table to find a shocking sum of five pounds. She looked through the window to find the woman and thank her for the tip but the beautiful red haired woman was not to be found. Mrs. Lovett safely tucked the money into the purse that Signor Pirelli had owned and went to the bake house. There she found the polite man she had chatted to earlier sprawled on the floor in a pool of his own blood, his skull cracked and throat slit.

The body was heavy but Mrs. Lovett was able to drag it across the floor and began her gruesome work. Her mind was never far from the strange woman who had come into her shop earlier and what the real reason behind her coming was.


	3. Chapter 3

Yup, three uploads in two days

**Yup, three uploads in two days. I'm supposed to be cleaning now but… Anyways, for those of you that are suspicious, bigger things lie ahead for this story, a lot bigger. As with all books/stories the beginning can be a little dull but the next upload will hint at some of the plans I have in store for this story but you will have to keep reading. :D And uh, yeah, I have no idea how this is going to end but that makes this all the more interesting ;) ENJOY!**

The rain had stopped overnight and Sweeney Todd was once again standing before the window in his barbershop. Mrs. Lovett had already entered with a tray of breakfast and taken down the dinner tray from last night all the while chatting nonstop. She had mentioned a strange girl with red hair coming into the shop last night that had asked whether the shop would be open or not. Todd merely grunted at this and returned to staring out the window.

It wasn't until a little while after noon that Todd had his first customer. He was a middle aged man that had recently indulged himself with one of Mrs. Lovett's meat pies and so when his throat was sliced with the razor some undigested piecrust forced its way through the gash. Todd thought this disgusting and interesting but dismissed the thoughts after he pushed down on the foot pedal and the body slid through the chute. He wiped his face clean of the blood and changed his shirt hoping that there would be more customers. Killing had become something of a pastime for him, a way to release his anger and calm his bloodlust.

A new storm began only a few minutes after Todd's kill. The sky was black and the sudden darkness made Todd feel uneasy.

Another two hours passed until the tinkling bell announced a new customer. Todd put on a welcoming smile and turned around to greet his new victim. His smile faltered however when he realized that the customer was a woman with red hair.

"I don't service women," Todd snarled.

The woman said nothing but walked towards the barbers chair and touched the arm. "This room reeks of blood."

Todd's eyes widened in surprise. How could she know that? Did she work for the police or was she a widow of one of the men that Todd had slain?

"I don't understand what you are talking about," Todd said, quickly regaining his composure.

The woman smiled and sat in the red velvet chair in which so many men had died. "Is this where you kill them?" she asked. "I think it is. The smell of blood is thick here."

"Whoever you are you have someplace else to be. Fogg's asylum perhaps," Todd replied.

"You are rather witty, Mr. Todd," the woman laughed, leaning back in the chair. "I do suppose no one would believe me. What would I say to the judge whilst in court? That my heightened senses allow me to smell blood from miles away and that I could smell the blood in the barbershop and in the bake house where your concubine chops up the corpses for her delectable meat pies?"

Rage flickered behind Todd's black eyes and he snarled, gripping his razor tightly. The woman stood and crossed to the window and stared out onto the London streets below.

"You know I never feed on cooked flesh, the smell is in no way appealing to me," the woman said absently. "But I _had_ to try one of Mrs. Lovett's famous meat pies. And with the first bite I took I could taste human, smell it even."

Smiling, the woman turned and leaned back on the windowsill. "I'm boring you, aren't I?"

"Leave," Todd growled. "Now."

"Oh, I'm taunting you, am I?" the woman chuckled. "I will take my leave then. But you shall be seeing me in the near future and my presence will linger with you for all eternity."

The woman smiled brightly, her pearly white teeth catching the rays of the sun. She crossed the room towards Todd and lifted a single finger towards his neck. Withdrawing her hand, Todd saw that a smear of blood rested upon her fingertip.

"You missed a spot," the woman whispered. She placed her finger to her lips and delicately licked the blood away. Her face was an expression of bliss and her pink tongue slipped past her rose red lips to remove any remnants of the crimson liquid. The woman's eyelids fluttered open and her liquid green eyes were glazed over in…lust?

Todd stood stiffly, eyes narrowed in disgust. The woman laughed softly, walking past him and to the door.

"You will become accustomed to our ways of life soon enough, Mr. Todd," the woman called as the door slammed shut behind him.

The bell had stopped ringing long ago but it still echoed in Todd's head as he sat in his chair. Who was that damned woman? How could the taste of blood appeal to her? And there were more—_things_ like her out there, he was sure of that.

The only thing that Todd wasn't sure of was whether he wanted to meet them or not.

**Good? Reviews are wonderful! I have nothing better to do with my life at the moment than to read reviews and write more stories, the next upload will either be later tonight or tomorrow morning although the arrival of some rather, um, insane relatives tomorrow may postpone any future chapters…save me!!**


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as the rain stopped, Sweeney closed the shop and began his search for a decent pub

**The family has arrived and I've been able to slip to my laptop a few times to write a sentence or two and I've finally finished it! The first five minutes of their arrival was spent searching for Grandma's glasses and then getting her inside and then getting her into bed where she's stayed for a while. I haven't completely lost my mind yet though and it was all worth it to hear my Grandma's frail, reedy voice say, "What the hell are yeh doin'?" about six times in five minutes. And my aunt said she'd take me shopping tomorrow so that'll be exciting… But you don't want to hear my troubles, so read! **

As soon as the rain stopped, Sweeney closed the shop and began his search for a decent pub. He had the misfortune, though, of meeting Mrs. Lovett halfway down the steps.

"Where're you goin', Mr. T?" Mrs. Lovett asked, brow furrowing. She was carrying a tray that held steaming food and what appeared to be a glass of gin.

Sweeney snatched the glass and drained it of its contents in one sloppy gulp. "I'm leaving for a while, it's none of your business where."

"But I've already made supper!" Mrs. Lovett protested.

"Feed it to the boy," Todd grunted, already continuing his decline of the stairs.

The cobblestones under his feet were slick from the rain and the air was chill with night. Few men still bustled about the streets and the odd carriage that drove by somehow managed to hit Sweeney with a splash of icy water. Beggars roamed the street listlessly, their future as dim as that of a lame dog, death the only way out of their misery.

Sweeney, now drenched from hip to foot and numb from the cold, finally wound up at a pub. It was a bright place, so full of bodies that Sweeney had to elbow his way through the crowd to make it to a lone table at the back of the pub. He sat for a moment, staring at the wobbly table in front of him before a busty waitress came to him and asked him what he wanted.

"Something strong," he replied in a hoarse voice.

She returned moments later with a large tankard of 'something strong.' Sweeney didn't care what it was but he was filled with relief as soon as the bitter liquid ran a burning path down his throat and to his stomach.

Why was he drinking? Even the man himself didn't know. The strange red haired woman from before had shaken him into a drinking recluse. He wondered how a woman that was probably crazed herself had been able to change him so. She had a certain aura around her, a dark, pulsing aura. And her green eyes seemed were a riddle with their piercing glance and the infinite wisdom they seemed to hold.

The waitress returned five or six times later to give Todd a refill of whatever strong liquid he was consuming. He had spent an hour in the pub, doing nothing but drink and he was intent on continuing to drink for another two hours. He wasn't bothered by anyone except the waitress and the countless women, whores that pestered him, rubbing his shoulders, whispering breathily in his ear, pleading with him to satisfy their needs and whatnot. Sweeney merely waved a drunken arm and swore at them to bugger off which they did with a pouting frown.

Sweeney continued to drink until he thought he might drown in the fierce liquid and the waitress began to look at him with concern in her eyes. She wouldn't dare cut him off though, she needing the money and even in his drunken state Sweeney knew this too.

Colors began to merge and voices echo when Sweeney opened his eyes. He set his elbows on the table and held up his head with his hands, eyes shut tightly and teeth clamped, willing the sickness to leave him. Sweeney took in a few gulps of stale air and looked up. The scene before him was nothing but a merge of shapes and colors. Men and their whores, drunks, waitresses, their shapes moved and shivered, their voices and shrill laughter echoing as Sweeney's head pounded, threatening to implode. But one form remained still amidst all others. It was the form of a tall thin woman with long, red hair.

Sweeney's hands clenched the table, knuckles turning white. His breathing accelerated to the point where he was nearly hyperventilating. The woman stood calmly, a smirk gracing her features as she leaned back against the bar.

Trying to remain calm, Sweeney slammed some coins on the table and heaved himself up. He made his way to the door, being pushed and shoved by other men. Sweeney turned his head and caught sight of the red haired woman again, her taunting smile and green eyes sparkling with excitement.

It was sprinkling outside and Sweeney nearly threw himself against the door to open it, knocking a man backwards. He took deep breaths of fresh wet air and began stumbling on his way back to the shop. The soft rain helped him to think straighter and his hand trailed along the rough brick wall beside him.

There was no sound other than the slap of his feet as they hit the wet pavement and his labored breathing. His chest heaved with the effort to continue walking in a straight line and he watched his feet to make sure he did. Sweeney's damp hair clung to his forehead and he stopped walking, body slumped against the wall.

Sweeney dismissed seeing the red haired woman as an illusion, a side effect of the alcohol. Besides, how could such a beautiful woman such as she stand in a pub filled with men who would likely drag her to an alley and rape her?

Thunder cracked in the distance and the rain began to fall a little harder. A stray dog yelped and bumped into Sweeney's leg as it scampered away. Sweeney turned to see what had frightened it and saw nothing.

With a grunt, Sweeney pushed off of the wall and kept walking. A cold hand pressed down on his shoulder and a silvery voice whispered, "Do you need assistance, Mr. Todd?"

Sweeney froze, mouth suddenly dry and throat scratchy. He didn't have to look at the hand with its long fingers and silver rings to know who it was. His stomach lurched and he slowly turned to face the beautiful red haired woman. She smiled, revealing pointy white teeth and Sweeney barely repressed a shiver.

"What do you what?" Sweeney asked his throat dry.

"To help you," the woman said in a sultry voice.

"I don't need your help," Sweeney mumbled. He began walking again, hearing the red haired woman's heels click on the pavement behind him, letting him know that she was present. The clicking irritated him, it drove him mad. He pushed a hand through his wet hair and lost himself in the maze of London streets.

He stopped. The clicking stopped.

He took a step. There was a single click.

Sweeney grit his teeth and faced the red haired woman. She wore a triumphant grin as though she was pleased with how irritating she was being.

"What's your name?" Sweeney asked. He had deduced that if he could not rid himself of this woman he might as well learn as much about her as he could.

"Elizabeth," the woman said.

"Why are you following me?"

"Because I find you interesting. Who wouldn't?"

Sweeney chuckled despite himself. "What is so interesting about me?"

"Your thirst for revenge has drawn you to crime. You feel that if you rid London of as much _vermin_ as you can you will be doing a service to the world. One would wonder what event drove you to such insanity." Elizabeth smirked. "I know. Judge Turpin is the reason. Judge Turpin, the man who raped your wife and stole your daughter."

"Shut up," Sweeney growled.

"Oh, you're tender on this subject, aren't you?" Elizabeth frowned. "I should have known. I'm just throwing some salt on the wound, that's all I'm doing. I won't deny it though, I am having fun."

Elizabeth giggled like a little school girl. "Ah, yes, meddling with the minds of feeble humans is _too_ fun! But you're my most fascinating project of all. I find your past very interesting and with what you've been doing lately, with your barbershop, you could make history! No one would forget the Demon Barber of Fleet Street! After a few hundred years, though, you would eventually be forgotten. That is what happens to all men, I've it many times."

"What are you talking about?" Sweeney hissed.

"I have lived for six hundred years, Mr. Todd, and I will live for many more," Elizabeth whispered, her cold hands holding Sweeney's face. "And I can give you this eternal life so that you may seek your revenge."

"You're lying to me," Sweeney snarled. How could this woman toy with him by making promises of eternal life? "You're deranged!"

"Too good to be true, isn't it?" Elizabeth sighed. "I thought so too when I was offered

the change. But it does come at a price, a small price though it may be." She played with the front of Sweeney's clothes and looked up into his dark eyes. "Do you want the change? Will you embrace your eternal life with fervor? Will you join me and the others for all eternity?"

Sweeney swallowed hard. "Yes."

He shut his eyes, expecting some sort of pain. He felt Elizabeth's lips brushing his ear and heard her say, "Open your eyes."

Sweeney followed her order and he opened his eyes. His face contorted in horror as he took in her long, razor-sharp fangs and her blood red eyes that were full of evil intent. Her hand brushed the side of his face and she whispered for him to relax. Elizabeth bent Sweeney's head down and her lips brushed his. She kissed along his jaw to her neck and sucked on the flesh there.

The barber felt Elizabeth's fangs poise above the flesh of his neck and then, in an instant, she plunged her fangs into his neck. Sweeney gasped at the stinging pain and clenched his teeth. The pain lasted for only a moment and was soon replaced with a sick pleasure. Elizabeth's soft red lips moved against Sweeney's neck and after a moments hesitation, Sweeney's hand wound in Elizabeth's hair, pulling her closer. The pleasure was infinite, the slurping sounds at his neck were indeed a turnoff but nothing could deny him of the feeling he was having right then. His head began to pound but not from alcohol, he clung tighter to Elizabeth's body and hair. He made gurgling sounds, urging her to stop but she wouldn't and soon Sweeney's ears began to ring and he fell into the blackness.

**I understand that the all of the chapters before have been very brief and quite short but they'll start getting longer as things begin to progress. And I've tried to be polite in the previous chapters but I'm going to be demanding now…review!! …please… I'll give you a meat pie and a tot of gin if you do… lol**


	5. Chapter 5

I am so, so, so, terribly sorry

**I am so, so, so, terribly sorry! It has been forever since the last update and this chapter is EXTREMELY short! Those crazy relatives of mine left, school started, more family came, there was a death, those relatives left, and I'm finally getting back into the whole school thing. All the while my fingers have literally been itching to start typing again and I've finally gotten to it! More will be on the way and I promise that there won't be such long breaks between updates from now on…hopefully.**

When Sweeney awoke the next morning, he felt his head wasn't attached to the rest of his body. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned up on his elbows, squinting his eyes. Sweeney was lying on the tiny bed in his barbershop, sunlight pouring through the window. The red velvet chair sat half bathed in sunlight a chilling sight for some odd reason.

Groaning, Sweeney swung his legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet touching the cold wood floor. His head was spinning and he held his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees. After a moment, Sweeney stood, finding his vision blurry and was not steady on his feet.

He fell back onto the bed with his eyes shut tightly. Yes, he had consumed quite a bit of alcohol the previous night. No, he was not attacked by the red haired woman in an alleyway.

That was what he told himself anyways and it did provide some comfort. He could not think himself a raving lunatic.

Sweeney sighed and opened his eyes, taking in the sight of the room before him. When none of the images before him convulsed in some bizarre way so he thought it safe to stand. Though his vision was still impaired, Sweeney was able to cross the room to the window.

It was around noon, the streets bustling with passerby and the pie shop below already filled to its maximum. Sweeney found that the sunlight irritated him and so he stepped away and stood in the shadows of the room.

The barber rubbed his eyes as he tried to remember when he had returned home. The last thing he remembered was leaving the pub…

No, the last thing he remembered was being locked in the surprisingly strong grip of Elizabeth, her teeth on his neck and his hands tangled in her hair.

But that could never be true, it simply couldn't. It was the alcohol, nothing more…

The bell above the door jingled and a customer entered asking for a shave. Sweeney said nothing but nodded towards the chair, slipped his razor from his belt, and swung the blade as hard as he could across the man's neck

He had expelled a large amount of effort with the blow and Sweeney fell to one knee, head pounding and vision blackening around the edges. The blood spurted from the man's neck and hit Sweeney in the face at full force. Gasping for breath, Sweeney wiped his face with the back of his hand while the razor clattered to the floor still opened.

Sweeney stared at the blood that was now smeared on the palm of his hand, dripping from his nose and chin, and clogging his nostrils with the stench. The sight and smell of the liquid which he had become accustomed to throughout the past months seemed different to him now, awakening a quiet hunger in him that he had never known before.

He clenched the razor and brought the blade to his lips, letting his tongue slide over the metal. The coppery tang of blood filled his mouth and he soon found himself spitting it out.

What was wrong with him? The killing of innocent men had become an institution in his life but the consummation of blood was certainly not.

_Only the alcohol_, he thought to himself. Once it had gotten out of his system completely he would be back to normal, or would stop trying to lick the blood off his razor at least.

Sweeney rose shakily to his feet and stomped on the pedal beside the chair. He pulled on his boots that were waiting for him neatly at the foot of the bed began to wash off the blood he had received from his latest victim. His damp hair clung to his face and he pushed it out of the way, grabbing a cloth to dry his face and neck.

It was then his fingers found the set of tiny holes on his neck. He examined the wound in the shattered mirror and found the two tiny pinpricks that were the remnants of his encounter with Elizabeth. His fingertips brushed the ragged edges of the holes and he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

It had happened. It was true. Sweeney Todd had sold his soul and the wrath of Hell would soon be upon him

**Short wasn't it? But as I promised, more updates faster! One either tomorrow or the next day but the longer I take the better it will be :D **

**Important little sidenote, well, not extremely important, but anyways, remember Lucy W. from Dracula. If you haven't read it then get to a freakin bookstore right now and watch Bram Stoker's Dracula with Gary Oldman, my favorite movie ever. But, yeah, that's it, stay tuned…**


	6. Chapter 6

**Gah, sorry, it's been so long since the last update. Well for me at least. Well, my language arts teacher has already made the mistake of giving us a writing assignment for over the weekend. I'm going to turn in two, hehe, she said she's good with horror though. I managed to find a way to smuggle in vampires...I just hope she'll read the whole thing... I don't like this chapter either. I was screwing with buttons on the computer too so if it looks funny blame my curiosity.**

**But go on and read :D**

When Mrs. Lovett heard the thump from upstairs her heart leapt into her mouth. Had a large man overpowered Mr. Todd whilst he was in the midst of attack? What would she do if her Mr. Todd was taken to jail? Or worse, killed?

Mrs. Lovett forced herself to deliver pies to a few customers, her nerves calming when no one came running down the stairs from the barbershop shouting that Mr. Todd was a murderer.

As soon as the customers were satisfied, Mrs. Lovett rushed to prepare something for Mr. Todd, told Toby to occupy the customers for a while, and hurried up to Mr. Todd's room. She found that her beloved Mr. Todd was sitting in barber's chair in the center of the room, hands covering his face. His panting filled the room and his was wheezing heavily.

"Mr. Todd?" Mrs. Lovett asked shakily, her eyes widening in fear. "Mr. Todd, are you all right?"

"I—I need," he began. He took his hands down and set them on the arms of the chair where they lay, fingers twitching. His mouth was open, gasping for breath, lips dry, face incredibly pale, and dark circles under his eyes. "This sun, it's too bright."

His voice was hoarse and dry and Mrs. Lovett's heart wrenched to hear his voice so strained. She let the door bang shut behind her and set the tray of food on the table. Kneeling next to his chair, Mrs. Lovett took Sweeney's hand in hers and brushed his hair out of his face. His hands were clammy and cold and Mrs. Lovett's hand slipped in his. His forehead was slick in sweat and his hair was damp and clung to his forehead.

"We're gonna get you better, Mr. T, we are, don' worry bout a thing, love," Mrs. Lovett cooed. "C'mon, we're gonna get you in bed now, love."

Sweeney stood, groaning with effort. His arm was slung over her shoulder and Mrs. Lovett was holding sixty percent of his body weight. She stifled a whimper and dug her nails into his back to try and hold him upright.

Luckily the bed was out of the sunlight and Sweeney fell onto it, with a groan of relief. Mrs. Lovett pushed tried to push the covers over Sweeney but he pushed it away.

"No," he growled. "Too hot."

"You're freezin', Mr. T," Mrs. Lovett protested. She gave up on the blankets and recovered the tray from the door. "I've got some nice soup for you, Mr. T, it'll be good!"

Mrs. Lovett raised a spoon full of soup to Sweeney's mouth and he complied, opening his dry lips to accept the soup. Her heart softened to see him in such a state and she filled another spoonful of soup for him. He denied it and pushed himself up to his elbows.

"Mr. T, you need to rest," Mrs. Lovett hissed.

Sweeney didn't listen to her; it appeared as though he did not even know she was speaking. He was staring intently at the pulse on her neck and he winced, moaning.

"What's happening to me?" he whispered, more to himself than to Mrs. Lovett. He covered his face with his hands and leaned back into the pillows, nails digging into his skin.

"Mr. T, please don't," Mrs. Lovett pleaded. Her hands covered his own and she managed to pull them away from his face. "Please, Mr. T, don't act like this. I'm going to help you get better, I swear it."

Sweeney finally opened his eyes and stared at Mrs. Lovett with a questioning glance. She smiled softly and trailed her fingers along his cold cheek. Mrs. Lovett couldn't help but smile at him and his somewhat innocent appearance. His black eyes weren't as dark and menacing and his features were relaxed without stress or anger.

"I'm gonna help you get better," she promised him with a grin.

Her smile faded when his cold hand brushed against her face gently. She thought he must be suffering from brain fever with the way he was acting. Sweeney's hand traveled to the back of her neck and she thought he might be trying to choke her.

"Thank you," he said. Sweeney pressed on the back of her neck, forcing her lips to meet his and Mrs. Lovett's heart began to pound.

Was this really happening? Was Sweeney Todd actually kissing her? No, it was not the ways she had always dreamt it to be. His lips weren't soft and warm; they were cold, chapped, and dry. The kiss wasn't full of meaning; it was most likely the side effects of brain fever. It was not a passionate kiss either; it was merely the gentle presence of his lips against her own, so light that she could hardly feel it. But it was enough, it was a kiss, their first kiss, and Mrs. Lovett was in such a state of bliss that she could hardly control the overwhelming urge to faint.

His lips left hers and she nearly moaned in disappointment. Sweeney began to slide his lips along Mrs. Lovett's jaw and her eyelids fluttered shut once more. He kissed along the left of her neck and his tongue slipped past his lips to push down on her pulse. Mrs. Lovett bit back a gasp, chewing on her lower lip as Sweeney continued his ministrations. He had begun to lightly nibble at her neck, teeth dipping into her flesh in a small love bite. Mrs. Lovett couldn't hold back her moan this time and her fingers dug into the mattress beneath Sweeney.

She was pretty much lying on top of him now, hardly able to hold her up her body. Her mind was reeling in pleasure, mouth open and tiny gasps and moans escaping her lips.

One of Sweeney's hands was tangled in her hair, the other sweeping lightly up and down her back, while his head was buried in her neck.

Mrs. Lovett felt a certain lightheadedness beginning, a feeling that wasn't unpleasant in the least bit. She felt her arms begin to tremble and she couldn't possibly hold herself up much longer.

Sweeney stopped, mouth leaving her neck and made a strange repulsed, choking sound. Mrs. Lovett took in a deep breath of air and made to protest but Sweeney pushed her backwards.

Mrs. Lovett upset the tray of food, sending the soup flying across the room and causing the glass to shatter everywhere.

"Get away from me!" Sweeney shouted, pushing himself up to the head of the bed. "Leave!"

"Mr. T, I'm only trying to help you," Mrs. Lovett said, her mind still reeling and trying to catch her balance.

"Get the hell out of here, woman!" Sweeney roared, spit and blood flying from his mouth. "Get out! Leave! Go before I kill you!"

"No, Mr. T, I want to help you! Let me help you!" Mrs. Lovett was clutching an arm of the barber's chair and feeling her neck with the other.

"Get out!" Sweeney hollered and at the same moment, silver flashed and he flung a razor at Mrs. Lovett.

The blade caught Mrs. Lovett's dress and became embedded in the floor. Mrs. Lovett's face was ash white and she tugged desperately at her dress. With a horrendous ripping sound Mrs. Lovett freed herself and she backed out of the room. Sweeney's screams died down to groans and moans that were stifled due to the fact that his face was buried in his pillow.

The door banged shut behind Mrs. Lovett and she tripped her way down the stairs. She walked briskly through the pie shop without looking up at all and went straight to the parlor where she snatched up the bottle of gin that was set upon the mantle.

"Mrs. Lovett! Mrs. Lovett!" Toby shouted. He ran into the room, tripping over the leg of the sofa and nearly falling into the fireplace. "Mrs. Lovett, the customers are upset, you've been gone too long!"

"Tell 'em the shop's closin'," Mrs. Lovett said hoarsely. "And so is the barber shop. Jus' for a while, until Mr. T gets better."

"Mr. Todd's sick?" Toby asked incredulously.

"Yeah, tell 'em that." Mrs. Lovett uncorked the bottle with some minor difficulty and took a magnificent swig. "Tell 'em he's sick and that the shop's closed till he's better."

"Got it," Toby said, and he ran back out to the pie shop, tripping once again on the leg of the sofa.

Mrs. Lovett carried the bottle of gin to her bedroom and locked the door behind her. She kicked off her shoes and fell on top of the bed, splashing gin on one of her pillows. She was not upset, not at all, she was troubled, desperately troubled. Why? Because the man she loved most in the entire world was obviously sick and because he had just kissed her which was a phenomenal sensation but also troubling. Terribly troubling.

**Well...I might update later on tonight but I've gotta finish that second assignment. I'm planning on spending a whole day writing this story though, Saturday perhaps. I saw my friend today, she's a Twilight fan and she told me about the new book. Oh my God. Who wakes up one morning after they've had sex and asked their boyfriend or whatever how it was? I'm not a Stephanie Meyer fan, the whole vampires glitter in the sunlight thing...And I'm not a big romancey goey goey I love you person either. But whatever, it's not like you care right? lol**


	7. Chapter 7

**An update that has taken way too long!! I'm sorry, I won't keep you any longer.**

The bell rang throughout the barbershop as Mrs. Lovett slammed the door. Sweeney sat up in bed and wiped his hand across his mouth. Blood smeared across the back of his hand and he could still taste it in his mouth, feel the thickness coating his throat and sticking to the roof of his mouth. Sweeney started hacking up the blood and clambered out of bed, stumbling towards the shattered mirror in the corner of the room.

Sweeny's reflection was different from earlier, the bite marks on his neck were still prominent though his face was not as pale. His cheeks were flushed, pink, and his lips red as rubies from the blood that had graced them. Sweeney furiously rubbed at his mouth with his sleeve, thoughts churning in his head. He ripped the shirt off, tearing off buttons that ricocheted across the room, making clicking sounds against the wood.

After stumbling back to his bed in the comforting darkness, Sweeney held his head in his hands, fingers pushing into his temples and leaving red marks.

He had drunk the blood from a woman, not just any woman but Mrs. Lovett. And the sickening, gut-wrenching thing about it was that he actually _enjoyed _it. It had tasted good, felt good as it coursed down his throat, the warm, wet liquid. Oh, but it was even better when his sharpened canines broke the skin of her neck, feeling the slight resistance before the flesh yielded and split beneath his fangs.

"Stop it," Sweeney commanded himself. "Stop."

But he couldn't stop it; he couldn't compose himself while his mind was in such disorder. He couldn't stop himself from thinking about it, remembering the way the blood flowed into his mouth.

Sweeney grit his teeth, tightly wrapping the blanket round his body and pulling it over his head until only his dark eyes peered out from beneath the blanket. It didn't take long until sleep overtook him.

"Just wait till the sun goes down," Sweeney muttered to himself as he slowly nodded off. "Wait till the sun sets and then go and get her."

xXxXxXx

Mrs. Lovett laid back on her bed, eyes half closed and sighing contently. The gin had managed to ease her raging nerves and the empty bottle lay discarded next to the bed. She licked her lips slowly, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think.

But how could she not think about what had happened to her merely a few hours before? She turned her head and glanced at the setting sun from the gap between the curtains. Oh how she hoped that one day she and Mr. T would be sitting by the sea watching the very same sun set.

Groaning, Mrs. Lovett rolled onto her side. It was impossible for Sweeney Todd to _actually_ love her. There was no way. He was delusional from the fever and he had kissed her.

But what if?

That was the question that kept revolving around Mrs. Lovett's head since she had fallen back against the pillows. What if the barber really loved her?

She had already had about five fantasies in which, after he was better, Sweeney would come into Mrs. Lovett's shop, take her into his arms, and kiss her passionately. Then he would proclaim his undying love to her and they would pack their things and move to the sea.

Mrs. Lovett yawned and stretched on the bed. There was no use in thinking about such things now. She was going to have to get Sweeney better before anything could happen.

If anything would happen.

xXxXxXx

His eyes snapped open as soon as the sun sank beneath the horizon. His chest rose with a deep breath and his eyes narrowed. Sweeney slowly sat up in bed, glaring around the room. It was dark as he had wanted it and he cautiously rose to his feet. His tongue absently moved against his tongue against his teeth as he made his way to the door.

For the first time since he had returned to London he left the razor on the bedside table.

xXxXxXx

The cobblestones clacked under the woman's feet as she moved through the dirty London streets. Stray dogs shivered in fear as she passed, their whines generating soft chuckles from the woman. Beggars that sat on street corners eyed her suspiciously, what would such a woman be doing wandering round this part of London? Alone and unprotected?

She rounded a corner and arrived at an old cathedral. The roof had begun caving in and the graveyard gates were rusting and crumbling. The woman slipped through the graveyard gates, wandering aimlessly amongst the gates until she came before a grand mausoleum. The entrance to the tomb was left carelessly open and the woman pulled the door tightly shut behind her.

Inside the tomb was a set of stone stairs that twisted in a circle on the way down. There was no light that penetrated the darkness but the woman hardly needed it. Rats scuttled quickly along the floor, trying desperately to avoid the woman's falling feet. The stairs ended abruptly and the room she entered was lit by a roaring fire.

Twin armchairs and a small sofa sat before the fire, all of them made of the finest black leather. A young woman sat in one of the armchairs, staring intently at the book that lay open on her lap while a man stood near the fire.

"Good evening, my lovely companions," Elizabeth sighed, throwing herself upon the sofa. "How has the day passed for you?"

"The day passed in worry," said the man in a rich, luxurious accent. "I fear for your safety when you do not return home."

"You needn't fear for me, Gabriel," Elizabeth said in exasperation. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself!"

"That doesn't settle my fear," Gabriel replied softly. "What fate have you decided for the barber?"

"You don't wield the power of Fate," said the woman in the armchair darkly. "The Gods bestowed upon us this curse of eternal life and a liking of human blood, not the ability to gamble with Fate."

Gabriel turned, rolling his eyes. "Why must you speak of such things, Stella? Why did I gift you with this second life? If I had known that I would only be tormenting myself I would never have even considered changing you!"

"Gabriel, listen to me," Elizabeth pouted. "I want him for a brother yet he seems weak."

"What man can kill daily but is too weak?" asked Gabriel incredulously.

"I was in the process of changing him last night and he fainted!" Elizabeth cried. "How am I to teach him in our ways when he has too light a stomach?"

"It wasn't the barber's fault," the other woman began, "it was yours. You've always had a large appetite, Elizabeth. Because of that, it's only obvious what your mistake was."

"What are you talking about?" Elizabeth snapped.

"Honestly, if I had known you were such an incompetent fool I would have advised Gabriel not to change you," the woman retorted.

"Stella, enough. Either you tell us what you think you know or be silent," ordered Gabriel.

"Elizabeth drained the man nearly to death, she didn't know when to stop," the woman said. "He fainted when he lost too much blood. I pity the poor man who has such an insolent thing be his sire."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to respond but Gabriel silenced her, saying, "If Stella is right than you have a half-changed man running loose on Fleet Street. His foolishness could lead to our discovery. Elizabeth, find him and finish what you started. Once he rises again we will take him into our home and teach him our ways. Don't take anymore of his blood, Elizabeth, or his death may lead to your prosecution by the law."

xXxXxXx

Sweeney stood in the doorway to Mrs. Lovett's bedroom. There she lay, strands of copper hair shrouding her face, chest rising and falling with each breath. Her pale skin was accented by the sliver of silver moonlight that escaped between the curtains.

Licking his lips, Sweeney steadied himself by gripping the doorframe. His task would be simple, silence the woman, make an incision somewhere along her body and feast on the blood that spouted from the wound. Of course, that was only the easy part, then there would be the disposal of the body. Chopping up the body would be a gruesome task but that was the price to pay.

He was breathing hard, chest pounding and heartbeat pulsing so loud he was sure the sound would wake his victim. His first step was silent, taking him a few inches closer to his prey. However, Sweeney's next step landed on a creaky floorboard, the grating sound making him stand stock-still and causing Mrs. Lovett to flinch in her sleep.

The woman sighed softly, turning onto her other side with her back facing Sweeney before lying still. Sweeney couldn't hold back the small grin that crept upon his countenance. He even had to bite back a chuckle.

_Foolish little lamb,_ he thought. _Dumb creature, I'll kill you._

The thoughts produced a sudden image. A woman lying before a man, fear clear on her face. Tears streaming down her lovely pink cheeks, blond hair strewn across her face.

Sweeney couldn't stop the hiss that escaped his lips as the gut-wrenching pain began. He gasped from shock, stumbling out of the room and landing on his knees. He clutched his head in his heads and groaned.

What was this strange feeling of remorse? He had plotted to kill Mrs. Lovett; sneak upon her like that beast of a man, Turpin, did to his beloved Lucy.

The stairs to the barbershop had never been harder to climb for Sweeney. Before the pain had been caused by old memories of he and his Lucy and their sweet child. Now the pain was from his realization that he was become as awful a being as Turpin.

Sweeney collapsed on the floor in the center of the barbershop, panting for breath. He broke out in a cold sweat, limbs shaking uselessly and head pounding furiously.

He lay in such a way for an undefined amount of time before he was roused from his unconsciousness by an incessant tapping.

"'Tis some visitor," Sweeney mumbled to himself. "Only this and nothing more."

"Not any visitor, my dear barber," said a voice from behind him.

Sweeney rose shakily to his knees, nostrils flaring with the effort to sustain himself with deep breaths.

"My poor dear," Elizabeth tutted. "I didn't know I left you in such a terrible condition."

"What have you done to me?" Sweeney demanded.

"I have only just begun," Elizabeth smiled.

She knelt before him, glove covered fingertips brushing gently along the side of his face, tracing his lips.

"What do you want?" asked Sweeney. His head was reeling and he was certain he couldn't remain conscious for long.

"I promised you eternal life and so I shall give it to you," Elizabeth said, removing the glove on her right hand. She brought her wrist to her lips and bit down on the bluish veins there.

Sweeney inhaled deeply of the freshly spilt blood, watching it roll down her wrist and drip on the floor. Elizabeth put her wrist in front of his mouth and whispered, "Drink."

He did as he was told, taking Elizabeth's wrist in both of his hands and bringing his lips to the wound on her wrist. His tongue slipped past his lips and lapped at the blood. He hadn't realized how parched he was until the blood was displayed before him.

Looking up at Elizabeth, he found her staring at him, open mouthed with her own blood dribbling down her chin. Sweeney continued gorging himself on her blood, soon becoming desperate and sucking in earnest.

A sudden pain twisted in his stomach, causing him to rear backwards, head banging against the floor. Sweeney gasped, pain searing throughout his entire body, his nerves alight with a strange fire. He gnashed his teeth together, fingers digging into the floorboards next to him. The pain was unbearable, seizing his body, paralyzing him, turning him into a solid, empty shell of grief.

At last, with a final hoarse breath, Sweeney's struggles ceased and the barber was no more.

xXxXxXx

Mrs. Lovett awoke the next morning with her still buzzing faintly. She threw open her wardrobe to find any suitable dress, brushed her hair back, pulled on some old boots, and clambered out into the hallway.

Toby was still asleep on the sofa, mouth open and an arm hanging over, knuckles brushing the floor. Mrs. Lovett crept past him, avoiding all of the creaking floorboards until she was in the kitchen. The boy had obviously taken Mrs. Lovett's words to heart, that the shop would be closed until Mr. Todd was better. It wouldn't do him much bad though when you thought about it.

Mrs. Lovett then set about making pancakes. Her arms were soon covered in flour and once the pancakes had finished baking she set a stack of them onto a plate and topped them off with butter and syrup. She took the plate in one hand and began to climb the stairs to Mr. Todd's room.

"Mr. T, I've got you some breakfast!" Mrs. Lovett called as she tapped lightly on the door. "C'mon, Mr. T, you gotta eat somthin'."

Mrs. Lovett hesitantly opened the door and peered inside.

"Mr. T? Mr.—oh!"

The plate came crashing to the floor, broken glass shooting to all sides of the room. Mrs. Lovett stood with her arms hanging limply at her sides, her mouth hanging open slightly.

Sweeney Todd lay spread eagle on his back, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling, mouth gaping, fingers bloody from tearing at the floor.

The only sound Mrs. Lovett heard was her own hoarse breathing. Her entire frame was shaking as she took a step forwards, feet crunching on the broken glass. Mrs. Lovett's knees buckled and she knelt before the corpse. Her fingers brushed his jaw, trailed down the front of his chest.

She stared into his eyes, his lifeless black eyes, and screamed. She wailed a guttural, banshee-like scream that filled the walls and escaped through the open doors. Her fingers gripped the front of his shirt, curled in his hair.

The floor was covered in glass, blood, and tears in that moment Mrs. Lovett shattered into a thousand pieces that could never be reassembled.

**Blame my teachers! They've kept me away from my Sweeney fanfic far too long! But I have been doing homework, and thinking about this fanfic, and watching Nightmare Before Christmas, and I entered something I wrote into a contest so let's see how that turns out. But sorry again! Please forgive me! I won't do monthly updates anymore—well, I'll try…**


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